


Desperate Creatures

by Ms_Marquez



Series: Mythopoesis [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Brotp, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, In-Laws, Interrupting Wynonna Earp, Kidnapping, Spoilers, Swearing, Wayhaught - Freeform, Wynaught Brotp, wynaught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Marquez/pseuds/Ms_Marquez
Summary: Picks up right after the mid season finale.A few excerpts, in no particular order, for you to decide if you want to read this:1It was a woman with her face, but not her eyes.This woman, she smiled disarmingly - “come ‘on Nicole, come” - she pulled them forward.“Why am I...why are we here?” - she said as she reluctantly let the woman with her face lead her into water.“It’s what you deserve, silly...”2“Doc?!”“Tell me Ms. Haught,” he smiled a gold and silver smile at her, “have you ever been baptized?”3...all coherent thought flies out the window as Waverly takes a hold of her hips and goes in for a blaze all heavens to hell, world ending kiss. It is full of raw desperation, tongue and teeth, it is…“Disgusting! Ugh!” - Wynonna gags as the door to the Homestead slams behind her.4...she’s smiling at her, sitting up in a simple chair with a bottle of cheap whisky hanging limp from one hand. Michelle Earp, her wildcard mother-in-law-to-be is back in town, and ready to raise some hell.I hope these convince you!
Relationships: Nicole Haught & Rachel Valdez (Wynonna Earp TV), Nicole Haught & Randy Nedley, Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught
Series: Mythopoesis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956388
Comments: 23
Kudos: 96





	Desperate Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> These characters belong to Beau Smith, Emily Andras, SyFy and IDW Entertainment. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> This long ass fic is my maiden voyage. I hope it entertains. If it does, please leave a kudos or a comment. 
> 
> This work is complete on its own, and first in a series of works to follow.

* * *

There was no before. Her consciousness started at the main entrance to the Homestead. A deeper, more vivid approximation of her home with the Earps took form. Her hand went out in front of her, searching and finding the familiar feeling of an old, sandy wooden door. It gave way with an echo, moving through the thick air - almost tangible. _This_ world was meant to be felt. 

Outside, the unforgiving winter has all but vanished, she stepped into a tropical paradise. The air was still thick, but warm and muggy, everything smelled of salt, where tiny particles of sand carried the words from your lips to other travelers. Ahead lay a beautiful blue ocean, she couldn’t decide if she was meant to walk into the water. She waited at the shore for a sign or an invitation. 

Someone took her hand, soft and warm, and strong, the right amount of pressure pushed her to tear her eyes away from the bright blue in front of her. She looked to her right. It was a woman with her face, but not her eyes. 

This woman, she smiled disarmingly - “ _com‘on_ Nicole, come” - she pulled them forward.

“Why am I...why are _we_ here?” - she said as she reluctantly let the woman with her face lead her into water. 

“It’s what you deserve, silly” - said the woman as she guided them in, deeper- “How’s the water?”

They waded through the ocean, it carried a preternatural sheen to it - “It’s fine, I guess. A little warm, dense.”

“Good,” said the woman as she walked them into chest deep water now, her grip tightening a little with each passing minute. 

A few meters away, she saw a beautiful woman in a yellow sarong and bikini float into her line of sight. She was on what looked to be a giant, blood red, dark, heavy piece of wood. “Hey! Hey!” - She waved at the woman sunbathing on the wooden barge. The woman looked at her - “Nicole!!!” - she smiled, “You came!” 

“Waverly? What are you doing over there on that thing?” - she shouted just as the wind started to pick up. 

A dying response languidly made its way over through the turbulent winds as they agitated the water little by little - “I picked it” - Waverly pointed at the barge - “it has your name on it” - she smiled serenely as she floated further and further away - “do you like it?” 

“She picked you, Ms. Haught,” a gruff voice breathed into her left ear, making the tiny hair on her neck stand. The grip on her left hand became almost painful as she whipped her head around so fast, it disoriented her for a few seconds. Fear bloomed in her chest as the tepid water began to turn cold - “Doc?!”

“Tell me Ms. Haught,” he smiled a gold and silver smile at her, “have you ever been baptised?”

She searched for an answer, “I…” - recoiling in fear as she’s pushed under the water, plunged deeper and deeper by a man...no, not a man...the monster she trusted with her life, with Waverly’s life. His vice grip tightened on her neck, her legs and arms moved in a violent symphony as more and more water rushed into her lungs. He brought her up, only marginally, she was still under water, just to be able to look into her eyes. He smiled at her. As far as goodbyes go, it is a sweet one; to see a friend smile one last time. She began to feel weightless and heavy, all at once, not herself, not anything, as the last of the air leaves her. She should be thinking of Waverly right now, but she doesn’t, she thinks of Alice. This feels right.

She feels one final, brutal thrust as her lungs make a desperate attempt at pulling in oxygen. She takes a deep, loud breath and breaks through the surface, eyes open once again, gasping, disoriented, and the world is once again _real_. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” - Waverly’s worry weighs heavy in the early morning hours. She reaches out like she has so many times, hugging Nicole from behind like her very own spider monkey. “Nothing, babe, it’s just a bad dream” - she says, hoping to reassure this woman, who no doubt deserves more sleep after the day they had themselves yesterday. 

“Yeah? What did you see?” - she asks, her voice, smaller still, drifting away towards sleep once again. 

“Go back to sleep, Waverly. Don’t fight it” - Nicole turns a little, kissing away the worry etched into the brunette’s furrowed brow.

“Mmmmkay” - Waverly mumbles, as she disentangles herself from her fiancé - “you sure you’re okay?” - she whispers into the pillow, eyes heavy, her breathing almost evening out.

Nicole props her head up on an elbow, facing the half-angel fighting a losing battle against sleep - “Yes, Baby. Everything is fine.” 

“And yesterday really happened? I asked and you said yes?” - the tiny, sleepy, smiling voice asks. Who’s it going to hurt to confirm?

“Yes,” she says, “you chose me, and I chose you, and now we get to be together.”

“Forever” - comes a whispered reply.

* * *

As the day stretches itself, the dream from earlier this morning burrows deeper into Nicole’s mind. But, dreams are just dreams, she tells herself, as she begins her day in the kitchen. She puts the kettle on, tea for Waverly, coffee for everyone else, a nut milk, whatever is on hand, on the side and Kombucha for Rachel, may God grant her mercy. She moves around the kitchen with a blind and mindless acumen, making toast, laying out vegan spreads, and some vegan pancakes for Rachel.

“Nicole!” - it’s Waverly, the slightly masked tone of worry ever present in her voice, almost as if she expects the redhead to disappear if she turns away for a second - “ _what_ are you doing?!” It’s not a shout exactly, but it’s loud enough to make Rachel throw a pillow out onto the kitchen floor in protest, hitting a total of no one. 

Nicole is slipping, this new found sense of security has somehow managed to compromise her usually high-alert approach to her surroundings. She looks up sheepishly as wipes at a bit of pancake batter stuck to her cheek, “just getting breakfast done, Baby. Why? Did you want something else?”

“No, no” - Waverly has the good sense to look apologetic. Nicole was only trying to help get the day started after all. “It’s just that the Doctor recommended bed rest, and a lot of it,” she makes her way towards the patient in question, “and this, you know, is the opposite of that.” She saunters on next to the redhead, turning the stove off, turning her around and pushing her into the counter - “hey, I was in the middle off…” - a chaste kiss on the lips breaks the chef’s concentration - “those pancakes are going to be...” - all coherent thought flies out the window as Waverly takes a hold of her hips and goes in for a blaze all heavens to hell, world ending kiss. It is full of raw desperation, tongue and teeth, it is…

“Disgusting! _Ugh!_ ” - Wynonna gags as the door to the Homestead slams behind her. “Seriously, you guys are just lesbian trash! Stop spreading your disgusting, engaged to be married cooties over my kitchen!”

“Our Kitchen!” - they correct her at the same time, descending into a fit of giggles, Waverly goes in for one last peck, tabling private-time for a later hour. 

Wynonna, already over the love-fest, eagerly looks over the plated food, “Haught made pancakes?! Noice!” - she moves in on them quickly, only to have her hand slapped away. “Those” - Rachel looks daggers at the Heir, “are mine, and only mine.” 

“Have you even brushed?!”

“You just came from the barn! Have you?!” The two follow each other around the homestead, Wynonna chasing Rachel and a plate of pancakes, while Nicole and Waverly watch from a distance, wrapped around in one another's' arms. 

“ _This_ is what we fought for?” Waverly asks sardonically as she turns around to look at her fiancé. 

Nicole looks down at her - “yes, Baby, is there a thing more precious on this earth than vegan pancakes?”

Waverly holds her gaze, “I think that you’ll find that, there is.”

* * *

As the team gears up to dip its toes back into the Black Badge and Ghost River Triangle of it all, intense negotiations carry on in the living room of the Homestead. The couple is centre stage, sitting on fat rugs under heavy quilts and throws near a roaring fire. Nicole still needs to be kept warm. Rachel and Wynonna take the couch, though they opt to sit with Jesus, Mary and Joseph between them; two skittish souls on a sofa.

The youngest of them, her protégé (and her kid in a sense, she can think that, they’ve been through some tough shit), is the first to betray her – “No way! No freakin’ way! You are staying here and resting, demon hunting can wait a few days.”

Nicole tries not to take it too hard, she was hoping Rachel at least would be swayed, although why she thought that would be the case, she didn’t know. No logic on earth supported this assumption. Rachel had a casual approach to a lot of things but Nicole’s health and well-being were not on that list.

Nicole starts - “Come on Rachel, it’s just sitting on a plush couch…”

“A fugly couch!” – Wynonna helpfully sing-songs - an unwelcome interjection.

“Whatever!” – Nicole is running a little low on patience right now – “it’s just sitting and reading files, I’m fine!”

Waverly turns around, concern shining in her eyes as she hesitates to even say what she's thinking. But, say it, she must – “babe, you were _dead_ yesterday.”

“But, like, only for forty minutes! It’s the _most_ rested I’ve ever been” – the joke does not land, it crashes and burns and makes Waverly tear up like a Disney Princess. “I am sorry” – Nicole says, immediately backpedaling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I’m…I’ll rest, I will.” She squeezes Waverly - _hard_ \- for good measure, while the Heir and the teenager watch on uncomfortably from the couch.

“Okay…” Waverly says, placated for now as she cuts herself short of a sob and a full on snotty cry, wiping her face on Nicole’s night shirt. Rachel and Wynonna’s faces are identical in their disgust. Love sure has a lot more fluids involved than it should.

They decide that the ex-copper will in fact stay back and spend some time in front of the fire, to regain her strength and colour - “less pale, more alive” – Wynonna supplies. The agreement is sealed with another kiss or two, while Wynonna and Rachel scamper away in search of less loved-up pastures.

All is right with the world. For now. 

* * *

Nicole’s repentant mood and commitment to self-care lasts till about three in the afternoon. She has rested, she has cleaned, she has cooked, she has rested again, and she is over it. She is a woman of (both thought and) action, and here she is relegated to being a sheltered country mouse. She misses it; her job, a sense of purpose, earning a normal, stable, reliable living.

Not being useful is her kryptonite.

So, she shoots a text to Waverly – “Sorry Waves, bored out of my wits, going into town to see Nedley. Maybe window shop a little for the wedding? Don’t be mad, love you, can’t wait to marry you.” She should feel bad about bringing their wedding into the mix, but maybe it’ll help sell the lie? They both know that Nicole is not the taste-maker in the family, it’s Waverly who’s going to end up doing all the shot calling, while she mostly helps execute everything on-ground and keeps things moving on time. But, the excuse…errr…message should be fine, right? It’s cute enough not to get her into too much trouble with her fiancé?

Her quest for self-actualization starts at a bar. Being best friends with Wynonna Earp is rubbing off on her. The drive over to Shorty’s has her running lines in her head – “I’m a smart, capable, Ex-Sheriff. I have weapon’s training and a licence to carry. I know the law, I know purgatory and I am good at de-escalating potentially dangerous situations. I am organised, and OCD about systems and cleanliness. I am the perfect candidate to work at this bar. I am Nicole fucking Haught! Give me a job, dammit!”

As far as mantras go, _that_ is a mouthful. She hasn’t had to do this in a while. Getting picked for spots at stations and precincts around the country was relatively easy, she’s always been the perfect candidate with a perfect score, even tempered, level headed. But, now that she’s actively and willingly killed herself once, where is she on the sanity scale, really? At least Nedley killed her too, so this should be fine. She shouldn’t be nervous. She’s got this.

She’s not got this. Nedley insists she pick up the mantle of Sheriff again. She insists she’s not fit to serve. Every decision she’s made since Waverly was taken into the Garden and Wynonna jumped in after her, has been complete and utter donkey balls (thanks, Rachel). It’s not an argument she imagined she’d have with her mentor, she expected this to be a cake walk; it’s gut-punch. He refuses to give her a job, his exact words are – “Haught, now you know I love you like you’re my own, but get that ginger head out of your ass, woman up and take back this fucking town!” She’s not going to cry, she isn’t! She’s going to go take a breather in the alley out back and reassess her options.

She walks out the back door, looks to the sky, takes a deep breath. A sharp pain blooms at the back of her head. She teeters, trying to turn around to see her assailant, but the world has her on her back, again. The blue of the sky above bleeds into a black nothing.

Didn’t she _tell_ you, she’s not got this? 

* * *

Waking up from a night of restless sleep and waking up from a blow to the head are two markedly different experiences. The first is quicker; the day almost greets you, you expect it, you know? It lacks a certain…dread that comes with the second. Nicole hears before she sees the world rush back in, there’s a distant thumping music way, way in the background somewhere that she isn’t loving a whole lot right now; but it’s somewhere far away, so? – small mercies. It smells like horseshit and whisky. It’s a struggle to open her eyes, the scene before her swims in and out of focus. When she tries to bring her hand up to check behind her head, she fails, realizing quickly that she’s down on her ass on the dusty ground with her hands tied to a post behind her back. _Lovely_. When she gets out of this, Waverly is going to have bragging rights to the biggest fucking ‘I told you so’, this side of the hemisphere and Wynonna? Wynonna will legit murder her face.

She takes a deep breath to clear the cobwebs and help put the pain somewhere in the background; the world comes into sharp focus.

“There you are darlin’” – says a saccharine, southern, terrifyingly familiar voice – “you took your time wakin’ up, sleepin’ beauty” – she’s smiling at her, sitting up in a simple chair with a bottle of cheap whisky hanging limp from one hand. Michelle Earp, her wildcard mother-in-law-to-be is back in town, and ready to raise some hell.

She can’t contain the confusion in her pain addled brain - “Mama Earp?!” What she gets by way of an answer is a face full of water, bitter, scented like camphor – “what the hell?! Dude, I’m already awake!” There’s a beat of silence as one of Michelle Earp’s naturally sculpted eyebrows makes the slow trek up to her forehead. She’s surprised at Nicole’s fire; a muted smirk almost says she approves.

“I ain’t your mama yet, darlin’” – her voice is low, mirthful, as she gets up off the chair with a huff, pops her back and walks closer to Nicole.

“Untie me, now!” – she is so done with the passive aggressive, strike that, this is _aggressive, aggressive_ bullshit! She just spent a day puking frogs, drowning, being a frog, being a ghost, being a reaper, and coming back to life, now she has to deal with being abducted by her mother-in-law?! She wants to sue someone, now! She pulls at the restrains hard, thrashes around…

“Tsch, tsch, tsch” – Michelle Earp clicks her tongue at the younger woman, walking closer and wagging a finger at her – “I was a champion wrangler, darlin’, you are not getting out of those ropes. What do you young people say, hun? Chill. Sit a while, I just want to have a talk, you and me, one-on-one.”

Nicole begrudgingly realizes that Mama Earp… _Michelle_ , dammit! Michelle Earp is right. Moving around and trying to get out of the ropes is only making her more and more tired, and there is a long list of things that are pulling at her consciousness right now. She settles, kicking out her legs, getting some leverage to fold them in. It’s good for her back, so says Waverly, but right about now moving anything hurts.

“Why am I here?”

“Relax, darlin’, I just want to get to know the woman who’s about to marry my Waverly.”

“You know there _are_ ways to do this outside of assault and abduction, right?” – Nicole huffs, pushing her shoulders and elbows back with a satisfying pop. Michelle Earp doubles back and drags the chair closer to where Nicole is tied up. She situates herself an arm’s length away. The closeness causes the redhead to sit up straighter still, she knows what an interrogation feels like and she resents that they are not at eye-level.

Nicole doesn’t know what she expects Michelle Earp to say, but it is not a casual – “you look like shit.” Nothing like an Earp to get Nicole Haught’s hackles rising right out the gate – “and you look beautiful, for someone half in the bottle!” – Nicole shouts, surprising herself, even as Michelle smiles a satisfied smile. “I just know Waverly will look that good in another thirty years!” – the redhead’s shouting continues; her words are both sweet and full of anger.

Michelle looks positively tickled, like the cat who got the canary – “well aren’t you a charmer, Ms. Haught!”

The realization is slow, words taste bitter, her head swims. What she says, thinks and feels are all divorced from each other. She looks up at Michelle Earp with alarm - “what did you do to me?!”

“I see the truth potion I threw in your face is starting to take effect. Don’t worry, darlin’” – she soothes, almost motherly, “it’ll make things quick. We’ll be done in no time!” What’s extra scary is that Nicole can tell that the sweetness is genuine. It’s disconcerting to say the least.

“Why are you back, Michelle? Why now?” – that seems like a decent place to start.

“I couldn’t find Jullian, and yesterday Nedley called” – ‘fucking Nedley,’ thinks Nicole – “said my Waverly asked you to Marry her.” Her smile is genuine – “I thought for sure, you’d be the one to ask her, what with the puppy dog eyes I saw you make at her throughout Christmas.”

“Jullian’s dead” – the truth potion does not come with a small talk feature. Michelle Earp recoils like she’s been slapped, but then recovers just as quick, the sadness in her eyes and the small smile on her lips are mismatched – “I thought it was something like that.”

“You would have known, if you’d just called Waverly or Wynonna.” Nicole’s cruelty surprises even her – “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine.” Michelle cuts her off – “most of it’s the potion, but some of it’s you. You’ve changed, darlin’.”

“You don’t know me, Michelle” – it’s a defiant whisper from someone who is done, just _done_ – “you don’t get to run off for two years while Waverly and Doc get sucked into the freaking Garden, and Wynonna jumps in after her for a sum total of eighteen months, and I pick up the pieces. You are not in this story.”

“Wow, that was a lot of exposition in one outburst.”

Nicole seethes - “Untie me now, Michelle, before I forget we’re family.”

The mostly absentee Earp matriarch is taking all this rather well, maybe because she’s happy Nicole is standing up for her girls? But, there is no telling, really; no one can know her mind, not even Michelle – “well, aren’t you a sweet talker.”

“Michelle, I swear to…”

“Just hang on for a little longer, darlin’, I’ll have my answers soon and you’ll be back sucking face with my Waverly in no time. Now, tell me about this Garden.”

Nicole takes a deep, steadying breath to fortify herself, it has been a long and emotional day, and she does not feel like talking, especially to her captor, who – “We were going to fight Bulshar, but Wynonna, who is my best friend, drugged me and Jeremy and Robbin. They are gay and cute, and I’m totally cool with officiating their wedding. We’ll tailor the robes, of course.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

“And, so, we all passed out and Waverly and Wynonna went off to Earp the apocalypse, except, Waves turned out to be some supernatural angel gatekeeper and got sucked into the Garden to keep whatever was inside from coming out. I respect the sanctity of labour, but Waverly is too smart to be gatekeeper, unless it’s part of the hustle, you know?” She shakes her head to get back into her lane – “then, Doc followed her in. There’s a bunch of stuff missing in the middle for me, I guess we should all fill each other in, huh? Then, I woke up on a train, and Kate, Doc’s wife. Ex-wife? She’s a vampire, but also a witch, I think, or a soothsayer…she helped me jump off the train…”

“A moving train?” – Michelle drawls her curiosity.

“A moving train,” Nicole confirms, and continues (the potion is strong and maddening, and this _is_ what verbal diarrhoea looks and feels like) - “then I walked my way back to purgatory, and punched Wynonna.”

Silence. “You punched Wynonna?”

“It was very satisfying.” Nicole says, almost innocently, matter of fact.

Michelle Earp shrugs, “continue.”

“Then we drove to Monument to find a backdoor to the garden, and she called me Daddy and lied to me about what we were going to do a bunch of times after promising that she won’t lie to me. Then there was a kid. Rachel. Little Valdez. Now she’s my kid, or like a sister, it’s a little 50-50.”

“You have a kid?” – finally, _finally_ , something seems to shake Michelle Earp.

“Yes, she lives with us now, she’s vegan and nothing can happen to her.”

“Nicole, darlin’, concentrate. What happened in Monument?”

“Right. We got there and Rachel shot at us a bunch, and then I knocked her out.”

“You knocked out a kid?” – Michelle is genuinely surprised. It would be satisfying if it weren’t for the fact that Nicole knocked out a child.

“I didn’t know she was a kid!”

Michelle looked at her, contemplating something that was only hers to know – “right, then?”

Another deep breath, she was beginning to feel lightheaded - “then there were zombie scientists. They chased us around a bunch, while we tried to kill them dead, and Wynonna stepped on a grate, and everyone knows You. Don’t. Step. On. The. Grate. So, I pushed her off and fell in instead, and broke my leg in three places.”

Something akin to pity clouded Michelle’s features, Nicole hated it.

“But, Wynonna Earp-Heired her way through the zombies and found me, saved me, then we found Rachel’s mom, who was a corpse, and opened the portal to the Garden. Wy dove in, alone and Rachel and I got the hell out of dodge.”

“How did they get back? Eighteen months in the Garden, how did they survive?”

“It wasn’t eighteen months for them. Just us. It was a day for them.”

Even if some would argue that Michelle was missing a few screws, she was still sharp as a tac, Nicole’s clumsy evasion of her question did not go unnoticed - “How did they get out, Nicole?”

“I made a deal. With the swamp witch, I didn’t know she was the Clanton Matriarch. A vile woman, the Queen of Karens; she’s dead now.”

There it was, she had managed to make another dent in Michelle Earp’s stoicism - “ You _killed_ the swamp witch?”

“Waverly did. For me. She did it for me. I made her into a killer” – this day, yesterday, the last eighteen months, were beginning to grate at her nerves, it was all about to come crashing down.

“Why did Waverly _have to_ kill the swamp witch.”

“It was the deal. I promised Margo Doc in exchange for Waverly, Wynonna and him getting out of the garden.” – she was beginning to fade now, her head lolled to the side, her eyes became heavy. Michelle Earp came rushing in, took a hold of her face and not so gently shook her awake.

“Breathe, darlin’,” Michelle sounds genuinely concerned, “you’re beginning to look blue.” She tucked Nicole’s hair back behind her ears, “com’on Ms. Haught, I know you ain’t this delicate.”

“Sorry, I’m recovering from hypothermia, I’m supposed to be resting, but I’ve been kidnapped, and I haven’t even tried to shout for help yet. I am the worst ex-cop in the world. Probably the best abductee though.” 

“Hypothermia?!” Looks like Nedley skimped on the details. Michelle Earp looks worried now, whether it’s for Nicole or herself and the wrath of Waverly, you couldn’t tell. She whips out her phone, types furiously one-handed as her other hand makes quick work of untying the redhead. 

“Yeah. I drowned. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?!” – Michelle Earp yells.

“It was only for forty minutes.” – Nicole defends.

Michelle’s voice climbs, all bravado gone – “you were clinically dead for forty minutes?!”

“We had it under control” she answers indignantly as the world begins to swim again. Meanwhile, Michelle takes off her jacket and drapes it over Nicole’s shaking form.

“I had to” she stutters a little as the shaking gets worse, “it was the only way to break the covenant I made with the swamp witch, the only way to keep Doc out of it.”

“Why would you promise something like that to begin with? What was the plan Nicole? I mean I hate that son of a bitch, Holliday as much as the next gal, but you don’t strike me as the betrayal type” – Michelle Earp is gentle now, talking to her to keep her awake. She can tell. She indulges her.

Nicole’s eyes are downcast, she sweats guilt out of every pour, trying to swallow back the words fighting to come tumbling out of her mouth, damn the truth potion, damn Michelle Earp and damn Randal Nedley and his no-good meddling – “the plan was to spend as much time with Waverly as possible.”

An unsettling quiet descends on the two as Michelle Earp comprehends completely the meaning of those twelve words.

Somewhere outside not so far away, there is the sound of tyres crunching on gravel. Two car doors bang as light footsteps are heard; meandering, searching.

To Michelle Earp’s abject horror, Nicole begins to sob and lose consciousness at the same time, something the medical sciences did not know was possible. “Com’on now, darlin’, we were having such a good chat, you and I” – Michelle holds her cheeks, forcing her to look into her sharp eyes. “Stay awake, now.”

They can hear the Earp girls call out for their mama.

“And what after spending time with Waverly, hun?” – Michelle asks, a tenderness otherwise out of character for the woman, seeps into her demeanour.

Nicole manages to look up, holding up her head feels like a task now – “forfeit the collateral.” Michelle feels a chill run down her spine as the ex-cop continues “they’d be free. It’s all I could give her then. The best I could do,” she sob-hiccups. Crying is ugly business. So are families, and feuds, and evil curses.

Waverly Earp rushes in then, a goddess to the rescue, thermos in hand.

“It’s okay, darlin’” says Michelle, the spell broken, acutely aware of how she’s about to be violently pushed away by an avenging angel, “you did your best.” She’s physically railroaded by a 5 foot 2" seething ball of anger and fury – “I will never forgive you for this!” – Waverly hisses fire at her. “You will never step foot near her, you hear me?”

Wynonna hangs back, watching in fascination as Waverly makes quick work of feeding Nicole warm Gatorade. It’s supposed to do something…helpful? Her sister’s got this. The two are hugging and kissing and sobbing, there’s a lot of “I knew you’d come” and “I always do,” innuendos abound as they laugh and get ready to walk back to the truck, and away from crazy Earp Mama drama.

Waverly puts an arm around Nicole’s waist, Nicole puts an arm over her shoulder, a little heave-ho and they are up and walking out of this shit hole. Her sister looks back at her, as if to ask “you coming?”, not sparing a glance towards mommy dearest. “Go, I’ll catch up” – Wynonna assures her – “I just want to have some words with Mama here.” Waverly is only too happy not to have to deal with the serial abandon-er, completely and utterly devoted to the well-being of her girlfriend…fiancé, who is doddering like a toddler at the moment, with her head injury and feet of clay.

"Mama" – the word cuts sharp on Wynonna’s teeth. She waits for the two to make their way out of the exist. She whirls around, the perfect picture of a raging Earp – “what were you thinking?!”

“Well, how was I to know she isn’t well?!”

“It is quite literally written all over Haught’s face, Mama! The woman is blinking in and out of consciousness. Why would you do this?”

“I was trying to make sure she was right for Waverly.”

“You could have asked me? You could have called us. Hell, you could have asked Waverly herself! She’s no halfwit, lovesick kid, and Nicole isn’t Champ ‘seven seconds’ Hardy. You didn’t have to give her the Devil’s fucking third degree! She loves Waverly, she’s sticking around. Haught’s loyal to a fault, Mama, and you are not trying either of them again. Or so help me, I will put you back in that padded cell!”

“You love her? Ms. Haught.”

“Love’s a strong word.”

“Then you should know, that girl is going to break your sister’s heart.”

* * *

It’s tough being 5 foot 2" and carrying the very tall love of your life to a parked truck, even if you are basically a half-angel made of muscle. “Have you been eating meat behind my back, babe?” Nicole scoffs, “yes” – the truth potion is still working. “We’re talking about this, _and_ the fact that when we all vote you rest, you hear clean the house, cook and get kidnapped. What were you _thinking_ , babe?!”

It’s repentant Nicole 2.0 - “I’m sorry,” Waverly hefts her onto the truck door, helping her recline on it, holding her up by sandwiching her between herself and the car – “I know, I don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“That is not funny at all.” Waverly looks up at her with her best come hither look. “Did Mama hit the sense of humour right out of your thick skull, Nicole Haught?”

“Baby, I would love to flirt with you, but I am going to pass out pretty soon, and I think I need the emergency room to check for a concussion.”

“No. Yeah.” Waverly sobers fast, the initial relief of getting to Nicole is put aside for the next set of things to worry about, like getting her checked out at the hospital and warming her up. “You’re right” the brunette says as she worries her lip, “what’s taking Wynonna so long?”

As if on cue, the Earp Heir comes rushing out, walking purposefully, her sight set on the wilting ginger giant. “YO, HAUGHT! YOU RAGING FUCKING MORON, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“WYNONNA!” – her sister decries as she is unceremoniously shoved out of the way. The older Earp grabs Nicole by the lapels of her jacket, picks her up a little, and pins her to the truck. “What, do you have a death wish? I heard what you told her inside.”

“Get off her, Wynonna!” – Waverly is infuriated, but not strong enough to pry her sister off her fiancé, this is devolving fast. Nicole finally fights through the daze and shoves the Heir off her, but Wynonna does not relinquish her hold on the redhead, they both topple over onto the snow. The fight is playground rules, now.

Wynonna is on top, victorious – “YOU ABSOLUTE BITCH! SHE TOLD ME, SHE TOLD ME WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO!” She licks her hand and bring it down right above Nicole’s face, taunting her. The redhead has no other option but to make an ‘X’ out of her forearms and put it between Wynonna’s gross spit-slap and her face.

Right next to them a thunderous crack goes off, Wynonna throws her body over Nicole’s. A beat later they both turn to see the tiny faux-fur lined boots next to their heads. They turn back to look at one another, the realization dawns on them simultaneously, Wynonna threw herself over Haught to protect her from what was most definitely a gunshot. Feelings. Gross.

“Ouch! Wave, what the hell!?” Waverly Earp not so gently kicks her sister’s shoulder – “get off her Wynonna, or Annabel here’s going to give you an ass full of buckshot. I am _not_ in a joking mood.” She hitches the gun a little, her aim true – “I am done with your’s and Mama’s La Belle Dame sans Merci bull crap. No one is drugging, punching, hitting, kidnapping, or tying up Nicole anymore!”

“Except you, Baby” – _she speaks_ – “with explicit consent.”

Waverly smiles. Wynonna gags. She wipes her hand on her pants – “fine, fine…” she concedes as she begins to get up. She gives her hand to Nicole, pulling her up too. For someone so keen on kicking her ass only a minute ago, she graciously helps Nicole walk to the backseat of the truck and climb in securely. She doesn’t look back, “you can stop aiming at my top-shelf ass now, baby girl.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to act like a self-respecting adult, in complete control of their faculties again?”

Wynonna turns around, she sees Annabel’s been hung on Waverly’s shoulder now – “no such creature exists” – the younger Earp narrows her eyes, re-gigging the gun on her shoulder, as if to check its weight against herself – “but for you, baby girl, I will try.”

Waverly begins walking towards the truck. It’s a short walk – “What were you talking about in there? What was Nicole going to do?”

“It’s nothing, baby girl. It’s over now” – the older Earp makes for the driver's seat as Waverly walks to the other side in the back, she’ll sit with Nicole, it’s as it should be.

Wynonna sighs – “it can wait.”

Waverly has her hand on the door handle, they both look into the car to see a tired Nicole with her head propped up against the window, fogging it up in her sleep – “will it make me hate her?”

“No, baby girl. I think…I think it may make you love her more.”

* * *

The End, guys. The End, okay?

* * *


End file.
